You with the Empty Eyes
by ibuberu
Summary: I go out to unfold my bicycle, and ride off down the dirt trail. — BrendanMay.


**World – **Game **  
Characters** – Brendan, May  
**Pairings** – Brendan/May (Hoennshipping)  
**Genres **– Drama, Angst, Romance  
**Note(s)** – _(Request #12)_ So Hoennshipping from a darker perspective. Ever wonder why the rival in RSE practically vanished after you completed the game? I mean, in comparison, Jun just shoves himself in your face every weekend.  
**Disclaimer** – Lol no.

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**You with the Empty Eyes  
-**

You stare at me with two hazel eyes. They are definitely greenhorns to the concept of confidence, passion and the desire to win.

But still, you seem resolute – taking the term _rivals_ seriously and tactfully with a challenging smile that is barely peaking in its infancy. It is endearing, laughable and adorable in its most innocent form. If only there is a way for me to bottle these emotions for their rarity in strength and naivety. Looking back now, perhaps I should have taken a picture. They speak a thousand words, as my father always says. The photographs of his field studies prove nothing short of his words.

You hold the only pokéball on your belt, rolling it and running a thumb over it in your amateurish hands. Your gloves are black and white while mine are yellow. Little details; I love taking in the smallest quirks and abnormalities. That is the most important thing in science – knowing everything and inspecting every nook and cranny twice. And I know we'll meet again – we're travelling through Hoenn at the same time, after all.

You know, I don't understand why we don't journey together. Is my pride constructing an unbreakable barrier? Or is it inevitability?

I shake the thought from my brain.

The next time I bump into you, I'll test you again. I'm warning you – I won't lose.

You turn around, and never look back.

-

-

It doesn't hurt when I lose to you three times all over the native Hoenn.

But it stings incredibly when I'm taking cover in an underground shelter and I find out from whispers of rumours that a girl with brown hair and a red bandana is surfing through the choppy seas. The people around me believe that they have heard that she is braving to the heart of the crisis at Sootopolis. I crawl and push gently through the shoulders of the crowd, hurrying and hurrying to find a resident of said city. Because our fourth rematch is still waiting out there somewhere – in a flowery field or in a packed city that isn't suffering under sweltering suns and drowning rains.

I finger the band on my head, slump onto the ground and sigh. I tell myself I don't need to be worried because you are definitely capable of doing something like _this_. Saving the world and all that jazz, it should probably be something you can overcome.

I fold my legs and run a tongue over my drying lips. You have to; _have to_ survive, because obviously, I'll have to tell you about my feelings after this. You've always been too caught up with your training; I bet you've never noticed, huh?

I suppose that when I first started guiding you and giving you pointers from the day you moved into Littleroot, I should have been a better observant teacher. I should have told you that training and loving your Pokémon wasn't the only thing to do as a trainer. I probably shouldn't have told you to put all your heart and passion into your role – leaving barely any room in your heart for a certain male rival. But I can't blame myself; I had no idea that it was so easy to fall head over heels in infatuation. Neither would I guess that you possessed such stunning talent in combat.

Had I known, I would have added on a bolded point – _never train harder than me_.

Because I'm a professor's son – I can't _lose _so easily.

Admittedly, as your initial teacher, seeing you, 'my student' surpass me does make me feel somewhat proud, if not just slightly indignant. Perhaps I'm regretting teaching you about the wonders of type-coverage, the distinctions between special and physical attacks, and EVs. But seeing your friendly laugh, getting the leeway to tap your shoulder and having you smile into my eyes – it is the greatest feeling on earth.

At least, that is what I've heard.

-

-

I walk forwards with light footsteps and a wide smile pasted messily on my proud face, eager to see what the room is like – it doesn't bother me that you've obtained the title of Champion.

Except that it has been my dream, my goal and my calling since I was five and proclaimed that my ambition was to be a _Pokémon Master._

But it's you, so I can bear with that stabbing revelation – only because it is _you_.

You don't know that, do you?

Then Steven steps into my path and I refrain from grimacing at his sudden disheartening behaviour. He explains about formalities that have been placed for no explicit reason. And I find myself tumbling figuratively down a never-ending hillside as I realise that I can't accompany you into the room. Should I mention that the hill is littered with rocks and twigs?

Either way, the fall is long. When I hit the theoretical ground, my stomach lurches.

You stare at me with two eyes. They have grown weary and sick of confidence and passion. I know it is plainly because those two things are not required by you for any longer, please don't try to deny it. Your gloves are black and white, mine are yellow – that is the only thing that stays unchanged. The only remainder of you I can recognize is that desire for victory. It has just been quenched only minutes ago; do you perhaps feel contented now?

Your eyes say _no_, but I can't read anything else apart from that. Or rather, I'd hope not to. Your brow creases and you blink thrice in female code, we communicate vaguely in forced silence. Do you believe in the credibility of the saying '_three times the charm'_?

You'll wonder and I'll assume – but we both understand that no one ever confirms.

I take one step back, and so do you. Funny, how we perform the same straining action, yet you end up closer to the champion's room, while I draw further away. Your gaze rests tenderly in my eyes for a second, and then it flashes back to unreadable again, as if you were taking just a '_one-thousand'_ to search for something along the contours of my face. What are you looking for? Reciprocated love? Genuine pride in your accomplishment? I'm sorry, but not today – this is as much emotion as I am willing to show without breaking down.

Is this how we will depart? I haven't even gotten a chance to say _'I love you'_ yet.

You almost, _almost_ seem to understand that, as you nudge your chin to the corridor behind, the dark hallways stretching out and waiting for you – moaning for you. I muster a half-smile as you wait patiently for my permission to leave, I see your hands clench at your sides. I wonder if the entire action is all just for show, or just a mockery. I don't think it is because you treasure my opinion and my blessings – I'm no _Prince Charming_.

I nod my head once. One time is enough because my heart can't break twice.

You turn around, and never look back. And it feels strangely like our eyes have never met in the first place.

I go out to unfold my bicycle, and ride off down the dirt trail.

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**end.**


End file.
